


A Court of Angst and Heartache

by Taylor_Reads



Series: ACOTAR series Rhysand POV [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:55:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24271684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taylor_Reads/pseuds/Taylor_Reads
Summary: Essentially ACOMAF from Rhysand's perspective. Occasional visits to the POV of other characters as warranted. Slight mentions of chapter 46 of ACOTAR then continues until the end of ACOMAF chapter 67.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron & Rhysand
Series: ACOTAR series Rhysand POV [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752052
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

I was rooted to the floor as Feyre’s broken human body shifted into the body of the most beautiful High Fae I had ever seen. I couldn’t move, could barely _breathe_ as I felt the mating bond strengthen, take a hold of everything that I was and all that I could see was her. The pain as Tamlin held her, kissed her when I couldn’t was knife-sharp and then they were surrounded by the entire Spring court and I could finally move again.

I couldn’t watch this any more. I couldn’t stand there and watch as my mate was surrounded by the people that she loved and that _weren’t me_ and I was several floors away before I realised that I couldn’t leave. As much as I just wanted to see my home and my family, to make sure that they were safe as I couldn’t do for the one person that mattered most, I had to stay there. I had to make sure that the rest of them understood what was coming.

Meetings with Thesan and Helion, promises to speak further once matters were dealt with within our respective courts. A rather tense conversation with Kallias, before he re-joined the other seasonal High Lords. I had little hope that he would ever forgive me for the part I had played over the last fifty years. I knew he blamed me for the massacre of those children, I blamed myself. I should have realised, I should have _stopped it._ I was just so tired. I wanted to go home. I sent Nuala and Cerridwen back to Velaris to prepare the others. To let them know that I would be coming home, that a brief reprieve had been won. A request for Mor to meet me in the palace. After dealing with the return of those who had been here with me to the Hewn City, she would need to go somewhere lighter and quieter before heading back to Velaris. And after fifty years apart, I was eager to check in with my cousin as soon as I could.

I couldn’t sleep. The threat of Amarantha and her advances was gone but the weight of the mountain still pressed down on me as if danger still lurked around every corner. The bed loomed in the middle of that hated chamber, a massive elaborately carved reminder of every time that she had touched me and all the pieces of myself that had been lost in the process. But I couldn’t leave just yet, not without seeing Feyre. I had to speak to her, to make sure that she was ok, even if it would be for the last time. I found a balcony facing North towards my home and watched the night sky lighten as I tried to tell myself that I was fine. I released the glamour on my wings, their weight a comforting, stabilising presence behind me as I waited for morning.

Eventually, the sun crested the trees surrounding the mountain and it was time. Time for one last goodbye before I could finally seek the peace and safety of home. The mating bond thrummed within me as if in response to the thought of my mate sleeping at the other end of it and I gave it a gentle tug. I could almost sense her getting closer to me and I turned to face the doorway just as she slipped through into the morning sunlight.

“What do you want?” Not quite as hostile as she had sometimes been, but it still stung. I thrust my hands into my pockets, not wanting her to see them shaking, to see that her hatred of me had such capacity to wound.

“To say goodbye” I told her. _To see you one last time before you leave me forever. To know that you will be safe and happy and_ alive _even If it’s with_ him _and I’ll be alone._ At least I would have this one civil conversation to remember when she was back in the Spring Court with the love that she had fought for, had _died_ for and that would have to be enough.

“You never told me you loved the wings – or the flying.” Even now the urge to hide, to protect everything that I am was strong. She was my mate, I could trust her. Had trusted her not just with my life but with all of Prythian. If that wasn’t worthy of a little honesty…

“Everything I love has always had a tendency to be taken from me.” _And everyone. And you will be just the same Feyre, even you will be taken from me and I am powerless to stop it._

At least I had been able to say goodbye. That last conversation would have to be enough, something to remember he by when I was back in the Night Court without her. I allowed myself one last glimpse into her eyes as I made to leave and the bond tightened like a punch to the chest, knocking the breath from my lungs. I couldn’t do it, couldn’t leave her, she was my mate and I needed her! The urge to come clean, to tell her everything and beg for her not to leave me alone was so strong that I almost fell to my knees before remembering where I was. And who was waiting for her within the mountain. With one last desperate look at the mate that I would be leaving behind forever, I gasped in a breath and winnowed away. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys arrives back in the Night Court

I fell to my knees in the middle of the main hall of the Palace, gasping for breath and willing my whole body to just _stop shaking_. A hollow ache had formed within me around the mating bond, sharp and insidious, and I rubbed my chest as if to dispel it. Every fibre of my being was still screaming at me to go back and tell her everything. To formally acknowledge the mating bond and claim what was rightfully mine.

But she wasn’t mine. She had chosen Tamlin. Had walked into that hellhole and _died for Tamlin._ I was nothing to her. Less than nothing, I was the asshole who had tortured and manipulated her during the _worst three months of her life_ and even when she had given her life for the world that I lived in, I hadn’t even had the decency to guarantee her freedom. Every terrible experience that Feyre Archeron had endured in that place, every nightmarish, _hellish_ experience, I had been there front and centre of it. No wonder she didn’t want anything to do with me. _I_ didn’t want anything to do with me. I was as bad as _her._ Worse even, because I knew what that felt like and even that shared horror hadn’t been enough to stop me. Even that brief comparison was enough to summon the memories of _her_ to the surface where they played out in front of my eyes.

_“So proper Rhysand,” the monster reclined in the middle of the bed purred at me. “Even after all these years, you stand there waiting for an invitation.” She beckoned me towards her, bright red nails flashing in the torchlight and, for just a moment, I considered running. It was only the thought of what would happen if I denied her, the consequences, not for me but for the others trapped Under the Mountain and my friends hidden for now but never completely out of danger that forced me to approach the bed._

I forced the memories to recede, tried to focus on what was in front of me. The moonstone floor of the palace. _The steady ~drip~ of blood onto the floor from the wounds she had inflicted._ The golden curls of my cousin’s hair _deep red and hanging in a poker straight, shining curtain over my face, cutting out all the light and air in the room._ My arms, braced on the floor, shaking with the effort of holding my weight, _the feel of her nails raking scratches along them before moving to mutilate the muscles of my back right where my wings would be if they weren’t hidden by a glamour, as if she_ knew _they were hidden there_.

A piercing whine like a wounded animal cut through the steady heave of my gasps for breath, like fear and pain and desperation and I wondered if that was the sound that someone would make if they were breaking completely and finally. I followed that sound, followed it back from the wretched bedchamber within the mountain to the moonstone palace perched on top of another mountain court and it was me and I _was_ breaking, I could feel all the pieces of who I was flying further and further from each other, slipping from my grasp as I struggled to hold onto even just one of them.

Maybe those pieces of _me_ would just keep on floating away, and maybe I was drowning because no matter how hard I sucked in the air around me it wasn’t reaching my lungs. Maybe this must be what death feels like, and maybe this is what it felt like when Feyre lay there dying in that throne room and she slipped further and further from my grasp too. 

And there was my cousin, her hands gently grasping my shoulders, her face in front of mine as she searched me for injury.

“She’s my mate!” I managed to gasp out as the sobs I had been trying to hold in finally broke through. At once I was gathered in the arms of my cousin as she sought to soothe me and reassure herself of my safe return. The grief washed over me again as I sank into my cousin’s embrace. I had lost her.

Slowly I became properly aware of my surroundings. The sunlight playing on the floor in front of me, a cool breeze on my face from the open windows. Mor’s hands, one threading through my hair, the other rubbing gently between my shoulder blades as she reassured me over and over that I was out, I was safe.

“She’s my mate” I said again. I had to tell her, she needed to know the _truth_.

“Who’s your mate?” she asked me softly. “Tell me what happened.”

* * *

I listened to my cousin and High Lord as he related the horrors that he had endured over the past fifty years. The ridiculous plan to infiltrate Amarantha’s lair and kill her without any assistance. The cruel mask that he had been forced to wear in order to protect the people that he loved most. A part of me felt bad for using my gift to manipulate Rhys like that. I knew it was important to him that he not show any weakness, even in front of me. But after fifty years of not being able to do anything to help him I needed to know, needed a way that I could be there for him as he had been for me.

So I listened as he told me of a dream-girl who was human and then fey, dead and then alive. Of the innocent lives that he had been forced to take, the horrors he had been forced to witness and inflict, and the precious part of himself that had been forcefully taken from him night after night. I was pretty sure that I was still the only person who knew about that. Where I had seen my chastity as something to dispose of as I saw fit, Rhys had always seen his as something to protect, some vital part of who he was that could remain unsullied regardless of the masks that he wore in his duties as soldier and High Lord.

It was difficult to follow. My cousin’s thoughts were muddled, but he kept coming back to how evil he was, how much his mate hated him and something about there being no stars Under the Mountain. Eventually his story and energy ran dry and I suggested that perhaps we should go home and he could get some rest. My heart broke as my strong, proud cousin _begged_ me not to make him go, not to make him face everyone else.

“The town house then” I told him. “Just you and me. I’ll tell the others that you’re asleep, that they’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” At his shaky nod, I stood, gathering my cousin into my arms and winnowed us both home.

* * *

We arrived in the darkened sitting room in the town house. It was later than I expected, I hadn’t realised just how much time had passed while we’d been up at the palace. I was _home_. The thought slammed into me as I stepped out of my cousin’s embrace, almost sending me to my knees. I turned to thank her, but the words were stuck within me.

“Get some sleep, Rhys” My cousin looked tired and sad. I had done this to her, I’d come back and brought her nothing but more sadness, more pain. “We’ll deal with everything else tomorrow.” I wanted to apologise, to fix that worn expression on her face but I didn’t know how. But Mor just smiled at me and pushed me gently towards the stairs with a “Goodnight, cousin” that I couldn’t argue with.

The panic that welled up inside me as I walked into my bedroom was almost overwhelming. I shoved it down inside of me. It was nothing. This was the first night since leaving, the first time entering the bedroom, that was all. A small amount of apprehension was to be expected. I focused on keeping my breaths long and deliberately slow, willing the unflappable smoothness that I had hidden behind for the last fifty years back into place. I needed it, even here. I had to be strong for the others, had to make up for failing them and leaving them to clean up the mess I’d left behind. And I knew that if I didn’t hold onto that mask, the one part of me that I still had a slid grasp on, then I would fall apart completely, that I would lose every part of me, never to be regained.

I left the curtains open, both the ones around the bed and the ones at the window. I lay in my bed staring through the window at the patch of sky and the stars within it visible over the streets of Velaris, a constant reminder that I was out, I was free. And as the night deepened, I slowly allowed myself to drift into an uneasy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bloody hell, Rhys is dramatic! (Not that I don't love it haha)
> 
> That's it for pre-completed chapters, so more to follow when I've written it!


	3. Chapter 3

_I was trapped! She was riding me like a fucking_ horse, _and I was stuck on my back underneath her. Glowing restraints secured my wrists to the headboard, sapping my power to ensure that I couldn’t defend myself, could barely even_ move. _I shoved my panic as far deep within myself as possible. I couldn’t let her see how much this affected me, it would only give her more ammunition to use against me later. I plastered a lazy smile onto my face and even managed to moan a little, as if this was enjoyable. The only weapon I had left against her was pleasure, both hers and my own. If she enjoyed our liaisons then I might escape punishment, or at least minimise it. And if she thought that I was enjoying something, well that was a sure-fire way to make sure that it didn’t happen in the future._

_I tried to focus on why I was doing this. The hundreds of innocent fae that were trapped here with me, my family and the citizens of my true court, Feyre my m- NO! I mustn’t think of that, especially not here. I didn’t think that she had managed to control the daemati powers she had stolen but I couldn’t risk it. My thoughts were forcefully drawn back to what was happening as she raked her sadistically sharpened nails over my arms and chest, leaving deep bleeding scratches in their wake. The Hybern restraints meant that I couldn’t heal and I could feel the wounds throbbing, trails of blood tracking across my flesh. I was struggling to keep up my feigned pleasure, but one quick glance at her face told me that it didn’t even matter. She wasn’t even looking at me, but off to the side of the chamber. As if having to service her night after night wasn’t bad enough, she had Tamlin sat there watching. The two people I hated most in all of Prythian and they were both a party to this torture._

_Finally, the bitch managed to climax, and she dug her nails deep into the muscles of my chest as she did so leaving five deep wounds in each side. Satiated, she climbed off of me and sauntered across the room to caress Tamlin’s face, asking him if he’d enjoyed the show._

_The scene shifted and suddenly Feyre was in the room too. I was still shackled to the bed and helpless to do anything as she snapped Feyre’s neck again, the sound echoing around the bedchamber. I was frozen, I couldn’t even cry out as I was forced to watch my mate die, watch Tamlin carry her body out of the room and Amarantha advanced on me once more._

I awoke with a jerk, the feeling of slow suffocation lingering after the images had faded. The bedclothes were too close, too tight, too heavy a weight on top of me. As if she was still there covering my body with hers, cutting off all hope of escape. I threw them off me and, with a flick of a finger, reduced them to dust for good measure. The curtains of my four-poster echoed the decadence of that bedroom Under the Mountain and I misted them too. Even without them, I could feel the mattress pulling me down as the walls of my bedroom closed in around me. Each breath ripped through my lungs and there wasn’t enough air in them, not enough in the _room._

I threw myself from the bed, staggering to the door. I needed air, light _anything to escape this suffocating darkness._ The streetlights shone dimly through the hallway windows and it was enough to chase away that primal urge to run, to escape long enough that I could pad softly down the stairs to the sitting room and light the lamps with a wave of a hand. I could almost feel where her nails had pierced my chest, as if the wounds hadn’t healed immediately as my full power flooded back into me.

I paced the room, unable to remain still even in the larger, lighter area. The feeling of being trapped hadn’t completely left me and I found myself rubbing the skin of my wrists, needing to feel that they weren’t still restrained. She was gone, she was dead, but in the quiet emptiness of the early morning it felt like she was still there, like I would never escape. I felt the mating bond thrum with anxiety as if in answer to my own. The twin threads of panic twined around each other until I struggled to know which was my own. I slammed my shields tightly around the bond until the feeling of her emotions within me was muted. I couldn’t allow them in now, their presence in the aftermath of my nightmare felt almost invasive. _‘I’m out’_ I reminded myself _‘she’s gone.’_ My eyes found the familiar whisky decanter on the sideboard. Something to steady the nervous energy which was still coursing through me.

I poured myself a generous portion of the amber liquid and swallowed it quickly, relishing the burn in my throat, the proof that I could still feel anything at all. Pouring another measure into the heavy tumbler, I took it and the decanter and settled myself on the sofa facing the windows. I sipped my drink slowly, embracing the numbness that spread through me with each successive glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew!
> 
> Sorry it took so long for this one, I was really struggling with the opening scene for a while. (Even now, it's more of a dodge than I'd planned haha)
> 
> Hopefully not too long for the next one, when we'll finally see the boys ^_^


End file.
